


I Know Exactly Where to Find Her

by kuriouskitten



Series: Original Fiction Series [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Nostalgia, POV First Person, Sorrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-12 21:16:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21482971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriouskitten/pseuds/kuriouskitten
Summary: A piece from a few years ago, during a college course. Please mind the tags!
Series: Original Fiction Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548484
Comments: 4
Kudos: 1





	I Know Exactly Where to Find Her

A lawnmower starts up somewhere across the field, pulling me out of a light doze and into a childhood memory.

The ancient lawnmower growls as it circles Gram’s house, circling the trampoline where I’d jumped and watched, watched and jumped. The sun warms the skin exposed by my tank top and shorts, shining its rays for the last few minutes before the rain blows in. I know she would be hollering about sunscreen if she were here. like she did that day, but she’s not here now.

And that’s the problem.

The problem revolves around her _not_ being here, only anchoring memories, not my distracted mind, my failing body, my disorderly life. Peace disappears, and tears and sobs break loose before that distracted mind can wrap around the mood change, but it doesn’t care once it catches up. Maybe that peace was never there, maybe it was made up, just like the relief I sometimes feel when I wrap myself in her blanket, chasing the long-faded scent of her through the fabric.

Or like the fist around my heart when I sit and listen to her favorite songs on repeat, knowing that it’s likely I now know every note to the records better than she ever did.

Or maybe it’s like the utterly confusing roller coaster I go through on the days I pack a picnic, complete with a woven basket and blanket, stop and get her a “medium cup of black coffee, please, I am not a senior, Kaitlyn,” from McDonald’s, and lay it all out with a grin, before losing composure completely and breaking into sobs so heavy that when it’s all said and done, I only have enough strength to stretch out alongside the basket and doze as the sun peeks in and out of the clouds, that lawnmower echoing through the cemetery.

Maybe the problem is that I know exactly where to find her, yet I can’t find her at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! What did you think? I would really love to hear your thoughts on the tense, as I've always been iffy about it.
> 
> I feel like it's a very rambling style of prose, re-reading it, but I don't remember what the assignment was.


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